


skin tight jeans

by dazedlight (opinionoutpost)



Series: Makeup!Luke [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, IT WILL BE A THING I'M DETERMINED, Lashton - Freeform, M/M, Makeup!Luke, boys wearing makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opinionoutpost/pseuds/dazedlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke wants to dress a little nicer. It's harder than he thinks.</p>
<p>(Or dumb, self-indulgent fluff where Ashton is the supportive boyfriend and Luke is an insecure sunflower.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	skin tight jeans

**Author's Note:**

> some more makeup!luke because why not! kind of a part two to i think you're pretty, but you don't really need to read it for this fic to make sense.
> 
> i'm on the tumbles pretty much always so you can peep that [here](http://peachflush.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> also i have a [drabble blog](http://fvedrabbles.tumblr.com/) where i post WIPs and blurbs and shit if you want to check it!

Luke wears the same uniform of black jeans and t-shirt without fail almost every day. Sometimes he ventures into raglans or plaid button downs but the basic silhouette is consistent, and it kind of bothers him. He wants to be more adventurous. He wears makeup now; if he can do that, he should be more confident in his wardrobe. He’s been good about stepping out of his comfort zone over the past few months so why is it so hard to put on a blazer instead of a denim jacket? Why does he feel the need to hide his hair under a snapback every time he’s too lazy to style it? Why can’t he just wear what he _likes_?

He looks up from his hands folded neatly in his lap to watch Ashton get ready. He’s fiddling with his hair in front of the mirror, trying to get the curly mess to sit nicely across his forehead. It’s gotten so long recently; Luke loves it, loves threading his fingers through it when they’re making out, loves playing with it idly when they’re tucked up in one another in bed on lazy afternoons. It’s so soft and slides so easily through his fingers like silk. It’s magic to Luke.

Ashton gets shit for it sometimes, the fans tweeting him, asking when he’ll “go back to his prime” which Luke doesn’t really understand. Ashton doesn’t have a prime. He’s always beautiful. And he’s happier with how he looks now, and it shows, his smile brighter and his attitude more carefree. _He_ wears what he wants.

“Ready to go?” Ashton asks, drawing Luke out of his head. He pulls on an olive-y green jacket with patches and buttons slapped haphazardly across the lapels and arms. He’s pretty sure it’s a girl’s jacket, but it fits Ashton’s narrow frame perfectly. It makes him look even smaller than he already is, and Luke suddenly feels... too everything - too tall, too broad, too much. Ashton looks compact but strong, his tanned, defined forearms peeking out from his cuffed sleeves. His hair is especially glossy today, falling to the side in even waves. He looks radiant, and Luke is just a bland mess of shapeless black t-shirts.

Ashton’s staring at him expectantly, waiting for a response. Instead of answering him, Luke stands, walks over to him and rests his hands on his small waist to pull him a little closer. “You look nice today,” he tells him as he drops a kiss to the top of his head.

“Thanks,” Ashton says with a smile and he catches Luke’s lips in a quick kiss. “So do you.”

He makes a half-hearted effort at a smile and squeezes Ashton’s waist before dropping his hands and turning towards the door. “Nah,” he says flippantly as he grabs the same denim jacket he’s been wearing for the past year off the back of a chair.

“What do you mean ‘nah?’” Ashton asks as they leave the hotel room, bumping his shoulder playfully.

“Nothing,” Luke says with another weak smile. Ashton doesn’t say anything else but he looks ready to. Luke catches him watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he thinks he might start something. But he drops it and instead takes Luke’s hand with a smile as they head to the shops.

*

The People’s Choice Awards are tonight and they’ve all left their outfits to the last minute. They have a stylist technically but she mostly lets them pick what they like for red carpets and only steps in when they’re particularly lost or lazy. Michael announced he was going to wear what he wears to every event because this night was no different from the rest, while Calum did actually take advantage of having a stylist at their beck and call. So that leaves Luke and Ashton to wander the shops in hope of finding something suitable, which he’s kind of okay with since he and Ashton haven’t had the opportunity to spend time alone together in awhile. Even though they’re in kind of a rush, it’s nice to take somewhat of a breather and just hold hands with his boyfriend without his best friends groaning on about it.

“We should probably suit up a little tonight, huh?” Ashton says as they stroll through the mall.

“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbles. He'd love to wear a suit tonight. He doubts they'll win anything, but the fact alone that they're invited is baffling to him, let alone nominated. It's a much more formal event than he's used to, and a part of him thinks it would be kind of rude to show up in ripped skinnies and a t-shirt. But that's also what's comfortable to him, and he knows that's probably what Michael will be wearing so he won't be alone. It'd just be easier to go with what he knows, he figures.

Ashton pulls him into a boutique and they browse for a bit, Ashton selecting a couple shirts he likes, as well as a few coats to try on. Luke mostly just hovers behind him, looking at the occasional item but not picking anything out.

“You're not trying anything on?” Ashton asks once he's done and they're headed to the change rooms.

“No, I'm okay.”

“Don't see anything you like?”

“I like you,” Luke quips before pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek.

Ashton makes a face but his eyes are fond. “Look around some more, okay? We should look nice tonight. Like a proper band for once.”

“You mean I don't get to help you try things on?” he pouts, snaking an arm around his waist and letting his fingers skim across his hipbone. 

“No,” Ashton says with a laugh as he pushes him off. “Go. Look. Ask for help if you need it.”

Reluctantly, Luke leaves him in the dressing rooms and ventures back into the main space of the store. It's filled with clothes much nicer than Luke is used to. He doesn't really know where to start. Christ, for their first award show he wore the same jeans and flannel he'd been wearing for shows every night with a leather jacket thrown over top. That's dressing up for him; he doesn't know how to be formal.

He must look a little lost because a woman is quickly approaching him, eyebrows knit together in concern. 

“Can I help you, sir?” she asks, and Luke opens his mouth to politely decline when another sales associate is sliding into the conversation.

“Are you finding everything okay, sir?” he asks, looking equally concerned. He's dressed nicely, Luke thinks, in a grey checked shirt tucked into a pair of maroon pants with a simple belt and suede boots that kind of remind him of something Ashton would wear. Objectively, he likes his outfit; he thinks he'd kind of like to dress like that maybe. But imagining it on his body is weird and looks wrong in his head.

“I'm okay, thanks,” he says, and the lady nods before leaving to help another customer while the guy stays, asking him if he's sure. “Yes, thank you,” he repeats.

“Well, if you need anything just let me know,” the guy says with a charming smile. He's walking away and there's a desperate sinking feeling in his chest for some reason and before he knows it he's calling after him.

“Wait,” he says and takes a halting step forward.

“Yes?”

He takes a few steps closer, saying under his breath, “I'm going to this... party tonight, and I need to look nice. Like fancy. Formal. And, uh, I don't really know how? To dress like that.”

The guy nods, taking a step back to look Luke up and down. “Okay. Well, I can certainly pick some items out for you, if you'd like. How formal are we talking, though? Black tie?”

“Uh, no,” he replies. “But I'd maybe like to try on a suit or something.”

The guy nods again, still surveying Luke. It makes him a little uncomfortable but this whole situation is kind of out of his grasp so he ignores it. “Okay. Okay. I'll put together some outfits, and we'll take a look at them together to see what you think. Sound good?”

Luke nods, and the guy smiles before directing him to the change rooms where he takes a seat while the guy goes off for awhile. When he returns, his arms are loaded with clothes in so many different patterns and textures it's kind of overwhelming just for Luke to look at. The guy lays out a couple different options for him to examine, and they all look nice on the rack but again, he has trouble visualizing himself in any of it.

“What do you think?” the guy asks once he's done showing all the clothes.

“It's all nice,” Luke responds, which is true. Staring at all the colour makes him a little dizzy, though, and he can't imagine trying all of this stuff _on_. Every outfit has so many layers; why does he need to wear three different shirts? Why can't he _just_ wear a button down? Why does there need to be a sweater and then a vest over top of it? He thinks the shirt on its own is just fine.

“What's going on?” Ashton asks as he comes out of a side dressing room, a few shirts folded over his arm.

Luke feels his face warm, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. Maybe he wanted this to be surprise – to show Ashton that he can dress well too, that he's more than t-shirts and jeans – and getting caught trying to make that improvement somehow cows him, makes him a little ashamed.

“Is this what you're trying on?” he asks, and Luke nods, avoiding his eyes. Ashton sets his stuff down and reviews the outfits. Luke wants to glance at the sales associate for reassurance but he's disappeared, helping some new customers. After a beat, Ashton looks at him. “Well? Let's see it, Hemmings. I want a fashion show.”

Luke laughs nervously, shaking his head. “No, forget it. It's stupid.”

“Hey,” Ashton says as he sits next him, staring at him intently. “If this is what you want, then it's not stupid.” He nudges him with his shoulder. “Now come on. Work it, Lucas.”

He groans but concedes, hauling himself and the multitude of clothing into a dressing room. The first outfit he tries on is the one with all the layers, and it makes him feel stiff and immobile. He walks out of the change room with his arms held away from his body awkwardly, and Ashton laughs at his jerky movements.

“You look like a hot teacher's aid,” Ashton tells him, and as he checks himself out in the mirror, he finds he's not wrong but not completely right either. He looks unbearably uncomfortable in these foreign clothes and immediately wants to change.

“This is awful,” he declares, cheeks burning again.

“You look good!” Ashton protests, but he's already pulling the vest off as he heads back to the change room. 

The next outfit is less fussy but he feels equally uncomfortable. The shirt has some confusing floral print on it that he thinks borders on ugly and the pants are too short. Or maybe they're supposed to look like that, as he's discovering he truly has no idea what fashion is. But judging from Ashton's reaction, they're probably not supposed to be so short, and he wants to bury himself in the ground forever.

“I look ready for a flood,” he says as he examines his reflection. “Am I really that tall? All my other pants fit.”

“I think that's the style,” Ashton informs him. “You're supposed to wear them with boat shoes or something. It's very country club.” He winks at him and laughs and Luke flips him off as he changes again. He decides against another outfit with an even more hideous shirt and another with what look like leather pants. The last thing left is the suit, which, at this point, he's completely disinterested in. The more he looks at it, the more he hates it. Ashton was wrong; this whole idea _was_ stupid and he should just stick to what he knows. He'll wear the same white shirt and leather jacket he wears to every award show with the same ripped jeans and the same damn shoes and he'll just be in a permanent state of homoeostasis for the rest of his life.

There's a muted knock on the door, followed by Ashton's voice. “Hey. Everything alright?”

Luke glares at the suit. “No.”

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Luke.” His tone is flat, almost challenging.

He sighs and unlocks the door. He's being petulant and he knows it, but he's frustrated. It shouldn't be this hard to just _wear clothes_. Ashton enters the small space, shutting the door behind him.

“What's going on?” he asks, and now he's gentle, kind. “Is everything okay?”

Luke shakes his head, tears suddenly pricking his eyes. He wipes at them angrily. He shouldn't be so upset by this but he _is_ and he doesn't understand why.

“Babe,” Ashton says quietly and steps closer, pulls Luke into a hug. He lets himself be cradled in Ashton's arms, tucks his head into the crook of his neck as he wraps his own arms around himself. “What's going on?” Ashton repeats. His voice is soothing in his ear as he rubs circles on his back.

“I just wanted to look nice.”

“You always look nice,” Ashton answers automatically. He means it, Luke knows, but the response is so fast it sounds rehearsed.

“You're my boyfriend; you have to say that.”

“Yes, I do. But I mean it.”

Luke sighs. “You're too perfect.”

Ashton chuckles, and it rumbles in his chest. “I'm not perfect.”

“Well, you're pretty close.”

Ashton laughs again before pressing a kiss to the top of Luke's head. He stays there with his nose buried in his fluffy hair, and he just holds him until Luke calms down, his breathing evening out as he concentrates on the steady beat of Ashton's heart. When he's ready, he pulls back, and Ashton lets his grip go slack.

“You still have one more thing to try on,” he says, flicking his eyes to the suit then back to Luke.

“I just want to go back to the hotel. I'll get the stylist to pick something out for tonight.”

“Come on,” Ashton encourages. “You know how I feel about you in a suit. Just try it on. For me.”

Luke grumbles but Ashton just keeps smiling at him sweetly until he caves, pushing him out of the change room so he can hurriedly shove himself into the suit. It's all black, similar to the one he wore to the gala all those months ago – the night he and Ashton kissed for the first time. It doesn't fit quite as nicely, the pants too loose around his waist and through the leg but it's close enough.

He has to hold the pants up they're so loose but he figures Ashton will get the general idea and then they can leave. When he comes out, Ashton gives him an appreciative once over with a jokey eyebrow wiggle.

“My man,” he says, making Luke blush. “You look great.”

“The pants don't fit,” Luke mumbles childishly.

“Put your jeans back on. They're black; they'll match.”

“If I do, can we leave?”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

Luke does as he says, exchanging the ill-fitting slacks for his jeans and slipping his shoes back on as well. When he comes out for hopefully the final time, Ashton is beaming at him. He doesn't bother with the full body scan, just watches his face.

“Perfect,” he says, and this time Luke rolls his eyes as he takes in his reflection. He's surprised by what he sees. He looks... good. The suit jacket fits him well, cutting in at the waist at just the right angle, unlike a lot of other tops he has that tend to billow around his torso to accommodate his large shoulders. The black button down he'd put on underneath is a little long but he can get that hemmed. He looks somewhat put together and it's nice. And his jeans and shoes are a comfort, something familiar and inherently him. He thought he'd wanted to change everything, but maybe he's not ready for that. Or maybe he doesn't need to, this simple upgrade enough for now, maybe forever.

Ashton joins him, standing just behind him and admiring his reflection as well. “Perfect,” he repeats, and Luke has to agree.

*

He feels the most comfortable he ever has on a red carpet that evening. He does his makeup in bronzes, a little smokey and hazey the way Ashton likes it and has fun doing dumb poses with his band like they always do. Ashton looks incredible, his hair impeccable and eyes sparkling. He's bouncy and giddy as they move from photographer to photographer, all that nervous energy pouring out of him in smiles. Luke catches him watching him as they pose, a tiny, private grin tugging at his mouth just for him and it makes him soar.

When they finally get a moment of calm amid all the craziness typical of an award show, Ashton pulls him into a dark alcove off to the side and kisses the breath out of him.

“I love you,” he mumbles against his lips, and it still makes his heart pound every time he says it.

“I love you,” he says back, and they hide in their little alcove, kissing and trying not to get too handsy, until an exasperated Calum finds them and tells them they're supposed to go to their seats now. They're giggly the whole evening, sitting probably too close and linking their pinkies together in lieu of holding hands. And when they win Favourite Breakout Artist, it takes all his strength not to just grab Ashton and kiss him, the worries and idiocy of the day irrelevant because he's never been happier as he is now with his best friends and maybe the love of his life, doing what they love and looking fucking killer doing it.


End file.
